


the downward spiral

by velociwrangler (annavalentina)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Breathplay, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Hate Sex, Knifeplay, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Oral Sex, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 14:01:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29902164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annavalentina/pseuds/velociwrangler
Summary: "Sometimes I was so impatient with you," he tells her so softly, cruelly. "You, of all people, taking just as long to catch on as all the rest. But oh, Yun-Jin, the look on your face is worth the wait."The Trickster offers a devil's bargain for the hatch. Yun-Jin will not let him make her cower.
Relationships: Ji-Woon Hak | The Trickster/Yun-Jin Lee
Comments: 8
Kudos: 37





	the downward spiral

**Author's Note:**

> please heed the tags and warnings :)
> 
> This [delicious art](https://twitter.com/DeadlyUrges/status/1368395747671048193?s=20) by DeadlyUrges absolutely set my brain on fire, resulting in me abandoning all my current projects to finish it before midnight same day. I am officially hooked on this ship.

"Maybe you should have been my first," Ji-Woon says to her, laughing, tracing her disarrayed hair back from her face with the edge of his knife. Her breath puffs out, blowing the last strands out of her vision, but she holds very still before him. "But then where would I have been without you, Yun-Jin?"

Blood smears down his belly, disappearing into the front of his pants. If she could get her hands on one of his knives, she'd gut him. She'd open his flesh from his sternum to his crotch, spill his guts out, hear _him_ scream -

"Still, it's not the same now Yun-Jin." He stoops to her suddenly, his hand fixed in her hair dragging her up into a painful arch. They could almost be kissing, and she narrows her eyes at him. "Even if I kill you, you'll be back again in a moment or two, won't you? Is that why you're not frightened?"

The silvery edge of the blade touches just beneath her eye, stirring over the fragile skin. He's wrong; she is afraid, she does not want him to do to her what he did to her colleagues, her _friends_ , while her head lolled from the gas and their screams played distorted in her ears. But she won't give him the satisfaction of cowering. She won't.

"Maybe you're just not that frightening, Ji-Woon," she says.

He laughs at her, and then he kisses her. She bites his lower lip instantly, hard, but he doesn't flinch or hesitate; he crushes their mouths together more firmly, presses their bodies together. Blood leaks into her mouth and his scent floods her - the acrid sting of his luminous knives, blood, his cologne. How many late night or early morning sessions had she smelled that haunting the air? They'd talked through glass together. He'd bent over her shoulder as she experimented with playback, asked him for more volume here or a lull in intensity there.

How had she not known? She plays back a thousand scenes in her mind's eye. Moments when he was impatient, when a sharp tone entered his voice, when they fenced over certain mix choices as his tastes strayed further avante garde, his studio time increasingly preoccupied. She'd fooled herself that she understood the depth of his anger, his dissatisfaction. After all, hadn't she also seethed with impatience, in anonymity. She'd grabbed for recognition and artistic control, even if it didn't come under her own name in the end.

In the here and now he grabs her jaw. Her teeth have loosened on his bottom lip and his thumb jams between her teeth, opening her mouth. Their panting breaths mingle and he shoves his tongue into her mouth. She feels the cool sting and the trail of liquid before the pain hits and knows he's drawn the knife down over her collarbone, through her shirt, between her breasts. Ji-Woon kisses her deeply, viciously, hot and messy. As he holds her jaws open and she moans muffled and furious into his mouth, he tosses the knife aside and rips at the purple silk.

He tears his mouth away and leaves them both heaving for breath. "Did you ever wonder, Yun-Jin?"

His murmur snakes into her head and she doesn't need to ask him to clarify. Even if she wasn't tied up on her knees, his cool hand sliding over her breast under the ripped cover of her shirt, his finger in her mouth, she'd know just from the feral and glittering intensity of his stare.

He slips his thumb from between her teeth, pressing it into her cheek, keeping her mouth ajar. Drool gathers at the corner of her mouth and she hisses, "no."

It is not a lie. It is not the truth, either.

No good to think these things about artists, and when they first met he was too young for it to cross her mind. When his bandmates died, when they began forging his solo career, as they moved forward together united against the industry and the world that didn't want to recognize them...there had been moments where the thought might have crept in if she hadn't so staunchly refused to permit it.

He doesn't look away from her, but when she hears the rasp of his coat falling back she knows he's drawing another knife. Its cool edge touches the edge of her bra as he draws closer still, his nose brushing hers, their mouths slipping together in a silky touch. The blood she drew from his lip smears across her skin and slips into her pinned-open mouth.

"I did," he whispers, and laughs. "I'll make you a deal, Yun-Jin."

She stares at him as he traces the blade up the curve of her breasts beneath the cup of her bra. There are little stinging traces of pain, not a serious or sustained cut, and then he slices through the bra strap. Drags the blade down and almost, _almost_ turns it against her nipple. Her body goes taut and still and he runs his mouth down against her jaw, licks the tender skin just under her chin, finds her pulse with his mouth and lays a kiss there, then tugs at the skin with his teeth. Obscenely, surreally gentle. It can't last.

It doesn't. He returns to her face and kisses her cheek. With the pressure of his mouth, he smears the kiss and his blood back to her ear, and says, "suck my cock, and I'll let you go free for the night."

The words shock through her. She tries to jerk back to look into his face, glaring in fury and suspicion. "Liar," she says, and has no idea why it's the first thing out of her mouth. "You're insane."

He kisses the tip of her nose, a condescending little peck that almost makes her snarl aloud. "I'm making you an offer, Yun-Jin," he says, and he's smiling from ear to ear, his eyes shining so bright she can almost feel the heat on her skin. "Yes or no? Tick-tock."

She wants to escape.

Yun-Jin draws in a ragged breath and closes her eyes. It's a sign of weakness but she has to, just to think - just to -

It’s a mistake. It doesn't help her concentrate. She feels the cool stroke of the knife on her skin, his calloused thumb pressing into her mouth, her knees on the cool damp earth and his breath rushing over her face. Locked behind the darkness of her eyelids she feels everything in a sensory cacophony.

She doesn't want to stagger back to the campfire the way you do after a death. Your mind muddy, dark, your body weighed down with phantom pain. The inside of your mouth haunted by a tarry fullness, a smell like old rot in your nose. It feels like you've swum your way out of a pit of something dark and draining and only woke up a second after retching the worst of it out of your very lungs.

His thumb slides out of her mouth and her breath catches as she closes her mouth and licks her lips, swallows the pooling saliva. He cups her face. "Your choice, Yun-Jin," he says in that sweetly charming, diffident voice he learned so well in his training. How much of it is even thinking with his dick, really, and how much of it is how much he wants to watch her say the word.

She opens her eyes and looks at him, her wrists tugging at the tie as she tries to shift her weight onto her knees, regain some balance or equilibrium. He instantly, casually kicks her knees wider open again and she spits out an involuntary curse. Her skirt rides higher up her thighs. He doesn't look away from her face. Yun-Jin bares her teeth at him. "How often did you imagine this?" she whispers, the mockery she steeps her tone in only a little weakened by her hoarseness.

It doesn't work. He knows what she's going to say; she can read it off his face in the spreading delight in his smile. "So often," he says, and she wonders if that's a lie. "Are you going to make my dream come true?"

He wants her to say the word. She says, "yes," and watches him sigh with theatrical satisfaction. Heat has flushed to her face; rage and humiliation and more. She's weathered worse, arguably. Bided her time before even more calculated insults to her dignity. This is just physical. This is nothing.

Ji-Woon will not break her. Ever.

He opens his own pants, of course, with her hands bound. He's fully erect already, and she wonders how she could have missed it, the shape of him beneath the fabric or simply the heat and hunger fuming off of his skin from the start. His fingers comb through her hair and the touch is so light, so falsely affectionate, that she drags in an angry breath. Ji-Woon drags the head of his cock over her lower lip. Is he trying to make her back down, take it back? She opens her mouth and takes him in.

He responds to her initiative by twisting his fingers in her hair and sinking his cock into her mouth in one long push. Tempting to use teeth as she struggles not to gag, feeling the heat and pressure of him threaten to overwhelm her. He groans, loud and long, reveling in it.

He controls the rhythm, of course. His fingers combing through her hair, periodically loosening and refisting. He tugs at her scalp and pushes into her mouth with steady, lazy thrusts of his hips and his cock slides across her tongue and the smell of him fills her lungs and she's - pushing up on her knees a little to keep the pressure of his fist bearable, gasping for breath. And he's loud and constant, breathless half-laughs and low moaning hums and her name, again and again, a taunt that slides under her skin and needles there.

Her hands are bound and her mouth is full and she supposes at least he isn't trying to make her work to satisfy him. He just holds her still and fills her again and again, fucking almost into her throat until her body spasms for air. Murmuring her name in his laughing voice, his hips bucking against her face. The world flickers lazily and she realizes she had closed her eyes. She's full of his smell, blood and his skin and his knives, and he lifts his knife and brushes her hair back from her face. It draws blood, of course it does, in a thin line over the top of her cheekbone. His rhythm rocks her back and forth helplessly struggling to keep her balance and she does feel empty, she does feel flushed and feverish and like she wants to sink her teeth and her nails into his neck and his back and she -

He says, "swallow," and some corner of her mind far from conscious control remembers to seize a breath before he fists his hand in her hair and jerks her in close, thrusting deep and staying.

If her hands were free she would be clawing at his thighs. She bucks and swallows, feeling the heat of him pulse in her mouth, and he bends over her for a taut and silent moment, holding her brutally close, and then lets her go.

Yun-Jin falls back and sprawls. Her breath comes in high trembling gasps, her legs sprawl, her arms cramp under her, she can't _think._ Air fills her lungs again and she glares at him.

He's slumped back against the wall, and he's laughing again. "You're so beautiful, Yun-Jin," he breathes, and then he pushes forward and staggers to almost fall over her body, catching himself on his hands. "Sometimes I was so impatient with you," he tells her so softly, cruelly. "You, of all people, taking just as long to catch on as all the rest. But oh, Yun-Jin, the look on your face is worth the wait."

She makes some formless sound, raw and angry, and he pushes one of his blood stained hands straight up her skirt. Feeling her go rigid, he crushes his face to her, nose digging into her cheek. "Are you wet for me right now?"

He doesn't pause for an answer. He's too impatient to wait for her pride or her need to buckle first. He slides his fingers straight into her panties and finds her, wet and hot and waiting. Her hips surge wordlessly up against him and he sweeps his hand away again and laughs triumphantly, rising up onto his knees. He grabs her leg, pulls it up to cradle and pin it against his side. "Were you lying, Yun-Jin? Or is it better for you now? Now that you know," the last hotly whispered against her knee.

"Fuck you," she gasps.

He takes the knife, digs it into the seam just above where the slit in her skirt ends, and jerks it into the material. Cuts it open in busy, efficient jerks, then peels the material back until her damp-gleaming thighs and panties are exposed.

"Ji-Woon," she chokes out, and instantly hates herself for it, because a little of the dizzy rush, the encroaching panic, at last invades her voice. "You - "

"Do I seem like a selfish man to you, Yun-Jin?" he asks with macabre glee.

Despite herself, despite his breath sweeping over her bared leg, despite the knife dancing down to the lace edge of her underwear, she gives him a flat, incredulous glare that would have better fit a quelling moment facing one of his outbursts in the studio.

He smiles at her, and then his eyes drift down to between her legs. She could kick him. She could try.

The glowing blade slips under her underwear and turns, angling to cut through the fabric. He turns his head and kisses the side of her knee without ever looking away from where that glowing knife points traces through wet, neatly-trimmed dark hair. Her breath is frozen in her lungs. Her hands are starting to go numb, pinned under her body.

Abruptly, he flips the blade in his hand, angling it back. The flat, rounded little handle of the throwing knife. Doesn't disrupt the balance, he'd explained to her once. She'd given him a sweeping glance and said, lips pursed, that it still seemed like an unnecessary risk.

Her risks, she'd always thought, were calculated. Carefully thought out, prepared for, and executed. She'd gamble high, but she'd make sure she had every chance of winning.

Splayed open in front of him, her eyes stay locked on the knife. A breath comes into her lungs all at once, in a heaving gulp, as her lungs begin to scream. The blade cradles again his palm, shining between his fingers, and he rocks the handle against her clitoris.

She should have been ready for that moment, but somehow she isn’t. The jolt of contact ripples through her whole body. He turns its blunt edge against her, rocking it up in steady little pushes of hard edged pressure, and the fingers barely - just barely - keeping the blade from her cunt slide against singing, blood-flushed tissue and hint at penetration. Tease it.

Yun-Jin will not scream for him. She refuses.

But her head falls back even as she chants that desperate mantra. She squeezes her eyes shut until lights dance on the inside of her eyelids and she - if her hands were just free she'd stuff them into her mouth just to keep herself from crying out, from -

"Say my name, Yun-Jin," he says. He kisses the inside of her leg again, then bites, the hot suckling pressure of his mouth unspooling the last traces of her rational mind. "Say it like you mean it, for once."

She won't, she won't, she -

He turns his hand, thumb pressed against her clit, and she feels flesh and cool metal and _fuck_ , between his two long fingers he slips the very tip of the cold knife hilt inside her. Is it terror or pleasure that makes her break, she doesn't know, but she does scream. "Ji-Woon - !" Rips out of her throat like the plea of a dying woman, and he groans against her and bites her leg again, harder.

The orgasm rips through her like a lightning bolt and her hips jerk off the ground, her body spasming and surging in a blind rush of pleasure and abandon. She hears her own voice moaning in the distance as her mind floats back to earth, and with that same distant awareness she feels the pressure around her wrists loosen.

"Oh, Yun-Jin," he whispers. He's moved up her body. His voice grazes her lips. "You never disappoint."

She opens her eyes and sees him sitting back, satisfied, with a sleepy feline smile. His mouth has left a bruise on the inside of her leg, an imprint of his teeth. It will be gone by the next trial. There's fresh blood running down his palm. The realization comes to her, mind moving foggy and slow, that in order to fuck her with the knife's short handle he let the blade bite into his skin. He barely seems to notice.

He rises to his feet. Tucks the knife back into his coat. Yun-Jin pulls her knees together and squirms to free her numb, prickling arms while he buttons his pants, although he doesn't even bother to fully close them.

"There you are," he says, smiling down at her, so fucking satisfied with himself. "It's all yours."

Behind her, finally, she hears the haunting wind of the trap door over her own pounding heartbeat.

"Aren't I generous, Yun-Jin?" he calls after her. She turns her back on him with an effort, the space between her shoulder blades prickling. The blood running between her breasts has dried. "You're welcome."

She climbs into the dark with shaking hands, her face hot and her inner thighs slick and pulsing.

**Author's Note:**

> _I wanna fuck you like an animal  
>  I wanna feel you from the inside _
> 
> _You can have my isolation  
>  You can have the hate that it brings  
> You can have my absence of faith  
> You can have my everything_  
> Closer - Nine Inch Nails


End file.
